The Hanging Tree
by Ziva- Zia- Z
Summary: It was an anthem for the underground, for those looking to resist... and yet, somehow, it became more than just an anthem- it became the story of her short life, and her long, agonizing death, brought about by the hands of people she had known for years. But in this, these times of war, even the most trusting of friends could become your most deadly enemies... M for mature themes.


**The Hanging Tree**

**Rifiuto: Non Miriena**

**Summary: It was an anthem for the underground, for those looking to resist... and yet, somehow, it became more than just an anthem- it became the story of her short life, and her long, agonizing death, brought about by the hands of people she had known for years. But in this, these times of war, even the most trusting of friends could become your most deadly enemies... M for mature themes. **

**A/N: She wrote this after seeing _Mockingjay- Part 1 _in theaters. This is what she came up with. Written: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia**

_"Are you, are you_  
_Coming to the tree_  
_Where they strung up a man they say murdered three._  
_Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree..._

_Are you, are you_  
_Coming to the tree_  
_Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me._  
_Strange things did happen here_  
_No stranger would it be_  
_If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree."_

_\- Jennifer Lawerence,_

_The Hanging Tree_

_Mockingjay, Part One_

_1935_

She knocked softly, swiftly, before moving along, humming softly to herself, alerting those waiting on the other side that it was time. She could hear footsteps on the other side of the door, and quickly, pulled the hood of her cloak up, obscuring her features even more as she stepped out into the shadows of the darkest evening.

She had been with this small band of Resistance fighters since the beginning, when it had formed in the quiet corners of Shiz University, while students were enjoying their innocence, even as all of Oz went to war; as the Emerald City began to eradicate the Munchkins, as the rest of Oz turned a blind eye to the genocide, and students of Munchkin decent were ostracized and cast out. Suddenly, the university turned on itself; what had once been halls filled to the brim with innocence was gone, replaced with hate, fear, violence. All over the campus, students showed their true colors- some hid Munchkin students from the special police that came down from the City to deport them to 'camps'.

Somehow, through all this, a small resistance had started. This small group of students had slipped flyers about town, held underground meetings on how to resist the City, done all they could to protect their Munchkin classmates. She knew this small band of rebels. She trusted them.

And that was her mistake.

* * *

She fled into the forests around Shiz; she could hear their footsteps behind her, their shouts and cries. Oh why had she turned down Fiyero's offer to come back to the Vinkus with him and Glinda? The Vinkus was neutral; many were fleeing there for safety- her father and Nessa had fled not too long ago. But she had stayed, insisting that she was needed at Shiz, that there were things she needed to get done. That she would join them soon.

Strong hands wrapped around her waist. "I've got her!"

_"No! No! Let me go, please!"_

"Take her there! To the hanging tree!"

_The hanging tree. _

She froze.

She knew the legend of the hanging tree- the old, gnarled Quoxwood was rumored to be as old as time itself. It was said that in the seventeen-hundreds, when Shiz was a small colony of settlers, that a young man, a highwayman of sorts, had murdered three women of respectable means. He'd been caught on his attempt to escape from the town and brought out to the tree. It was said that his lover, a young woman by the name of Elapha, had been forced to watch as her lover was beaten and then lynched, and left as a warning to all. Local legend stated that on full moons, he could be seen still hanging from the tree, and that despite his broken neck, he was still calling out for Elapha, who had vanished from history, begging her to join him.

_"String her up! The filthy Munchkin!"_

She was snapped back into reality, turning her gaze to the others who had been by her side in this rebellion from the beginning. She knew what was the cause of this-

A mole.

A mole had wormed their way into the resistance, and slowly, but gradually, sowed the seeds of discontent within their small band of rebels, had slowly turned her fellow students against her, and this... this was the breaking point.

She fought against them, kicking out, scratching, screaming. But soon, all she could see were the lights from their torches, feel the pain as they began their assault; kicking her, beating her, scratching her, pulling at her hair and dress. Eventually, barely conscious, she felt the roughness of something slide around her neck, and looked up. She forced her head to the side in the weak shake. "No... p...lease..."

Her small, lithe body was soon lifted up; the necklace of rope she wore tightened around her neck, breaking the bones of her neck and pushing them up into her throat before they released her for the briefest of moments and then did it again.

* * *

Silenced filled the area around the hanging tree. Now that the Munchkin girl was dead, the others in the resistance were unsure of what to do. The mole's mission accomplished, he slipped out of the clearing, whistling the familiar tune softly to himself. Arguing began to break out among the remaining members- what were they going to do with the body? Could they get rid of it? Would anyone notice if she were missing? How did one go about getting _rid_ of a body?

"Quiet, all of you!"

The owner of the voice turned from the girl to the tree and back. An idea was forming. Yes, this could work.

The hole in the tree was just big enough for a body, and she was still warm. _Rigor mortis_ had not even so much as set in yet.

"Cut her down!"

No one moved.

Then, slowly, someone stepped forward and did as told. The girl fell into the boy's arms, all dead weight, her dark eyes staring blankly up at him, devoid of the short life she had lived. Minutes passed, before they were finally able to maneuver her enough to fit her into the trunk of the old Quoxwood elm. They removed the cut rope from her neck, and instead stuffed a swatch of torn muslin from her dress into her mouth, forcing it back until it hit the broken bones of her throat. Once done, they stepped back.

Her dead, dark eyes stared back at them from the darkness of the elm. Those eyes would haunt all of them for years to come.

"Come on, let's go!"

* * *

He was supposed to meet her at the gates, like they'd promised. Despite the fact that he and Glinda had both fled weeks ago, he knew that she would have stayed, deeming whatever she'd gotten entangled in important. He checked his watch once last time. _Come on, Fae, where are you? _

"Fiyero?" He turned; Glinda stood behind him, having slipped out of the car. "Maybe she left already, and just hasn't had time to let us know."

He shook his head. "No, Fae wouldn't do that to us. You know she wouldn't, Glinda. She'd let us know. Something's keeping her-"

The campus was quiet; students were either in classes or in their dorms. He'd asked Headmistress Morrible, but she'd had no clue of where Fae had disappeared too.

"Fiyero, we can't stay. We have to go. Let's go get her things. Maybe she'll meet us once we get back from Crage. She's probably in the library-"

A moment passed, before he nodded, moving to follow the blonde. But as they rounded the corner towards Crage Hall, something made them stop. Glinda grabbed his arm, squeezing in fear. "Fiyero, wh... what's that?"

He shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the words painted across the front of Crage Hall's old, ornate, elegant doors in white. They screamed at the pair, sending their hearts into their throats and their stomachs into knots. "Glinda... we need to get the police... I think something's happened to Fae."

The blonde choked on a sob, covering her face with her hands as the words swam before her eyes, both completely unaware of the new legend that now surrounded the old Quoxwood known as the hanging tree.

_WHO PUT ELAPHA IN THE QUOX ELM? _


End file.
